Fundamentally Loathsome
by Lady Agatha Hal
Summary: The trials and tribulations of one Severus Snape
1. Default Chapter

"Quiet," Severus Snape said, walking swiftly into the already silent classroom. No one moved, and certainly no one spoke except to answer their name on the register. Snape put the register down and looked around the class critically. Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs in the same class? Every teacher's nightmare.  
  
"This lesson we will be making a quite - elementary - healing potion. Instructions," he flicked his wand, "on the board. Ingredients you should have, except for the Riverweed, which you will only take one stand of. Do I make myself clear, Bott? Kwak?" he glowered at two Hufflepuffs.  
  
"Yes," Bott squeaked.  
  
"Yes?" he said, raising his eyebrows.  
  
"Yes, Professor Snape," they both chorused quickly.  
  
"Good. So there will be no accidents. Flynn," he said, talking to a Gryffindor, "how would this potion be made poisonous?"  
  
"I - I don't know, Professor," Flynn said nervously.  
  
"Let's try again. Flynn, what colour is poxydust?"  
  
"I don't k-know, Professor," the boy said again, fearfully.  
  
"Idiot boy. Five points from Gryffindor. Byrne! How does the samidar affect the potion?"  
  
"I have no clue," the tall girl replied, "don't care, either."  
  
"What did you say?" Snape said menacingly, advancing towards the Hufflepuff girl, "repeat what you just said," he said in a low voice that carried around the dungeon.  
  
Amanda Byrne looked a little more scared now, but she didn't back down, "I said, I have no clue, and I don't care." Snape straightened his back, smiling in an eerie way.  
  
"You don't care, do you? Well, well, well. Twenty points from Hufflepuff, and a fortnight's detention." Byrne smirked - she'd gotten off easily, "wipe that smirk off your face, girl. If you think that's all, you better think again. I will, of course, be talking to Professor Sprout, but that goes without saying. A letter will go home to your parents tonight."  
  
Byrne now sat up straight and opened her mouth to form an apology, "don't even think about saying anything else, Byrne." He walked briskly back to the front of the class.  
  
"For all you dim-witted morons, this potion would turn poisonous if the Riverweed is burnt in the wrong way, poxydust is lime green and the samidar is what sooths the wound." He paused in the midst of the scratching of quills, "and if any of you get that wrong..." his statement hung heavily in the air, "begin brewing the potion." He said, and sat back at his desk.  
  
This was going to be a long, long day. 


	2. Venom

~~I need a title for this; I don't like Snape's Life!! Give me titles!! (asapp - as soon as possible please) By: Laala KG Rating: G for now.  
  
*People, Dien Alcyone's stuff totally, totally recommended! Amazing writer alert. Her best is 'A Season for Healing' which is has a Harry/Snape plotline. I am not entirely comfortable with gayness, and Snape will certainly NOT be gay in this story, but her amazing talent was too good an opportunity to pass. She doesn't need me to recommend her stuff anyways, but I just thought I'd mention it. 'A Season For Healing' is in my favs. Go R&R.  
  
Thnx 2 my first reviewer - Rossalinda (and lol!!) and Iamawriter1  
  
Oh, and guys, if anyone out there knows how to make the damn text appear in italic on the net, and can tell me, that would be fab. Every time I do it in word, bloody FanFic decides to make it regular font. ARAGH!!  
  
And, by the way, I am going to make my future chapters longer. If I can. It's just that I have tests at the moment, but inspiration is still here, so I have to write!! Please read and review, tell me what's good and what's bad. Even if you think the whole thing is crap, please review and say why and MAYBE I will change. Thanks to everyone who reviews. Email me if you want with anything - my email in my profile.  
  
Thnkies~~  
  
Snape glowered at the stupid student in front of him. He had TOLD the whole class quite clearly, that in this complex potion the final ingredient - the lacewing - had to be added with extreme caution, and had empathized that to these particularly stubborn, stupid bunch of Gryffindors. Thick sods.  
  
"Troy, will you please tell Newbery what I said about lacewing at the beginning of this lesson?" Snape said softly, gesturing at one of the Slytherins to speak.  
  
"You said, Professor Snape, that the lacewing, normally harmless will cause an eruption," he intoned.  
  
"Exactly. Five points to Slytherin," Snape said, ignoring the smirking Troy, "now tell me, you fool, what precisely seems to be the problem. Is it that your ears are too blocked for you to hear or is it simply because you have a brain equal to that of a mountain troll?" he hissed at the boy. The third-year cowered in front of him, as the crowd of Slytherins sniggered. Strangely, he didn't feel his normal feeling of triumphant. Newbery sobbed silently, making sure not to look his Potions master in the eye.  
  
Having small, Knut-sized purple and pink boils erupt all over his face and hands, granted, looked ridiculous, but was also extremely painful, and it took a lot of courage not to fully break down and yell. It felt like just- snubbed-out cigarettes were being pressed to his skin. If he hadn't known that Snape would've kept him longer for "causing a disruptance" he would've been jumping up and down with pain.  
  
Snape snorted at the ridiculous image in front of him. It wasn't as if he hadn't forewarned them. He had warned them all (as usual) and (again, as usual) no one had bothered to take the slightest interest. He was sick of being treated like an invisible house-elf. He looked at the trembling boy, smiling eerily, letting go of his tension. Why get work up when he could have a laugh?  
  
"Answer me," Snape said idly, in his signature soft tone. Newbery simply stayed hexed to the spot, mouth clamped shut, as if in a Body-Binding Spell. Snape gave a short sigh of annoyance, and pointed at another Gryffindor with his wand, who took a subconscious step back, "Hamish. Take the ignorant fool to the hospital wing." Newbery ran from the class, tripping over his robes in haste. A couple of pops could be heard and when he stood back up, crimson blood was dripping onto the floor with a mixture of purple and pink liquids. The Gryffindors pulled faces of sympathy, while the girls simply squirmed. Newbery left in haste, Hamish at his elbow. Everyone returned to brewing their potions. Snape walked back to the front of his class after muttering Evanesco at the mess Newbery had created.  
  
Snape looked up at a vividly haired girl, eyes narrowed in distaste. Ginny Weasley. He didn't REALLY have a problem with the Senior Weasleys, but the twins, Ron and Ginny Weasley were too much. And far, far too much for one person to teach.  
  
He walked over to her working table silently, making sure not to make any noise. He crept up on her and whispered, "what in the name of Merlin's beard do you think you're doing, Weasley?" She jumped about a mile.  
  
"I - I'm, I'm - do-doing my potion, Professor Snape," she stuttered. Snape smiled nastily.  
  
"You are, are you?" she nodded mutely.  
  
"Is it completed?"  
  
"Yes, sir," she said hesitantly.  
  
"Well then, Weasley, what colour should your Energy Potion be?"  
  
"Violet, Professor," she answered immediately. Damn her. If she didn't know what she was supposed to be doing it would make everything so much easier. Snape observed the potion, which was had far too much liquid. He made a metal note of what she'd done wrong, then moved his head a fraction to the side, observing her ingredients. That confirmed his train of thought.  
  
"So you have got the slightest about what you're supposed to be doing. You do know what your potion should be like. Why is it a blueish purple, then, may I ask?"  
  
"I - I don't know, Professor Snape," she said, blushing, causing her face to match her hair.  
  
"You don't, do you? Did you, as I instructed, boil the cintomia before powdering it? Did you mix the potion carefully, with a rod of breechweed?"  
  
"I forgot to mix it with the breechweed," she muttered, blushing a deeper shade of cherry.  
  
"I know, Weasley. Utterly useless...I, of course, could not care less, but I assure you, at this rate, you would, at highest barely scrap by with a pass. Now. I want you to re-brew this potion as extra homework and bring a sample in for me. Clear this mess up." He waved his wand carelessly while talking, and all the spilt liquid on the floor in front of him vanished.  
  
~*~  
  
Snape slammed the door behind him, immediately wishing he hadn't. The noise had re-activated his already throbbing headache. He pointed at the fire and murmured Naar, and a fire erupted in the grate, instantly warming him. Snape covered his long, crooked (and right now freezing) nose with his hand and rubbed it. He sighed and slumped down on his favourite black squashy chair. He thought back on his day of teaching, and wondered, really, why he did it.  
  
Teach, that is.  
  
Today, despite having Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors in one class (Merlin help us), it was a fairly good day. In other words, no Harry Potter.  
  
Of course, there was his amazing escape (yet again. How did the measly brat manage to DO that?) which made him all the more favourable in Dumbledore's eyes. That old bat. Really, he was fond of Dumbledore - no one had done as much for him as Dumbledore had - but he could not stand how the boy was treated like everyone else was lesser than him.  
  
Only one more Potions lesson with Harry Potter before the end of term, end of the year. Before he could return to his haven, his home. His mansion. He smiled as he thought of his fields, of his - his - garden. But most of all, of his workroom, right at the top of a certain tower. All it would take was a simple Open Says-a-me and the room would be roofless. He thought of his work, his potions, his reading, his transfiguration. Of where he could focus, and occasionally be nice to the odd house-elf, of maybe even Gibber (a Hipprogriff that could speak). 


	3. The Vampire Lestat and Dumbledore's Requ...

~*Fundamentally Loathsome,  
  
By: Laala KG  
  
Rating: G for now.  
  
Oh, and guys, if anyone out there knows how to make the damn text appear in italic on the net, and can tell me, that would be fab. Every time I do it in word, bloody FanFic decides to make it regular font. ARAGH!!  
  
Please read and review, tell me what's good and what's bad. Even if you think the whole thing is crap, please review and say why and MAYBE I will change. Thanks to everyone who reviews. Email me if you want with anything - my email in my profile*~  
  
Snape stretched out contently. Who cared about Harry Potter? He had his mansion, which he would be returning to in two short weeks. He felt a shiver of annoyance pass through him. He would've been going back in only three or four days, but he had to do an errand for Dumbledore, which would take a good nine days. Snape sighed and pointed at his door with his wand, making sure it was securely locked. Then he leaned back, smiling softly, picking up his favourite book.  
  
A self-made copy of The Vampire Lestat.  
  
It was beautifully made - he had spent a long time on it. He ran a finger down the dragon-hide spine, remembering just how lengthy it had been. First he'd bought a copy from a Muggle bookshop, Waterstones. It had been one of the few hand-written copies. Then he had preformed the same spell on every page, dislodging it from the cover, and then another spell that protected the paper from every possible threat. That took three days with the care he put in. Then he bound the papers together with magical wax - unbreakable. He bought dragon hide of the most expensive kind and bought leather from the most expensive shops. He choose a few of his best-looking Felluns (brightly coloured, abnormally large slugs whose skin re-grew if peeled off) and skinned them. He used the blood-red dragon hide for the spine, black leather for the front and back covers. He muttered an engravment spell and the words 'The Vampire Lestat' appeared, engraved into the leather. He attached and trimmed the Fellun skin so it was the same size as the rest of the pages in the book, and used it as a divider for each section of the story. Finally, he glued the pages down into the cover with a Permanent Sticking Charm. It was one of his most valued possessions.  
  
He conjured up some Butterbeer and settled back to read.  
  
~*~  
  
Someone was banging his head, hard against a wall. His nose was broken and his lip was oozing blood. He could feel a vein in his throat throbbing painfully and his forearm felt on fire. He heard shouting, yelling...  
  
~*~  
  
Snape woke up, covered in cold sweat. He touched the side of his head gingerly, making sure he was not really injured. His shoulders dropped in relief, and he glared at the empty grate. Why had the fire gone out? He pointed his wand at it, and for the second time that day, muttered Naar. The grate burst into flames and as a fire appeared. The warmth spread through him like Veritaserum. Snape shivered and raised a bottle of now- cold Butterbeer to his lips.  
  
What was wrong with him today?  
  
He subconsciously pulled his sleeve up and rubbed at his forearm. He stared at the Dark Mark; still as vividly black as it had been the day he received it. His face filled with utter disgust, remembering how stupid and naïve he had been. But even so, no one had the right to mock him. He irritably pulled his sleeve back down, as his mind filled with images of people who had hated him. First his father; an abusive self-obsessed being who did not deserve to be Lord. Then his family, save his mother, Cornelia Lyster-Snape and his older brother, Dylas. Even in his present irritated and revolted state, he saved a second for their memory.  
  
A sudden flashback found Senior Potter's face etched into Snape's memory once again. Snape grit his teeth and stared at a vase with all the hatred and jealousy he felt for James Potter. His heart thumped wildly and the world around him dissolved. He was in his own world now. Where only his thoughts and him existed. His Hate World, where he thought of nothing but his hatred and loathing for some people. After all Quentin Snape (his father's name had been one of his greatest weaknesses. Few people even knew what his first name was) had done to him, Dylas and his mother, Snr Snape still did not manage to get him to Hate World as easily as Potter did. His father's memory made him whip out his wand, think about spells that would protect him, and grit his teeth so hard that he needed to cast a spell to fix the shatters. But his father's memory did not get him to Hate World. James Potter was the best at doing that.  
  
Snape thought back on when he first started to loathe Potter. Aka, when he first met him. Potter had trotted into the hall to be sorted. Snape could still remember the song the hat sang that year, his song. The year he was sorted: "I am old, as you are new,  
  
I was made long ago,  
  
Most know the sad sorry tale,  
  
In which divided us four,  
  
Have you ever seen,  
  
Friendships as strong as these?  
  
Two pairs they made,  
  
And together they sought to teach,  
  
Sly Slytherin, brave Gryffindor,  
  
Fair Hufflepuff, smart Ravenclaw,  
  
Together they made the world's best magic school,  
  
In which you are now standing,  
  
But alas, my friends,  
  
And oh my foes,  
  
All differences come to an end,  
  
And there finally came the day,  
  
When old Slytherin departed,  
  
And though no fights then emerged,  
  
Four became only three,  
  
The happiness and the laughter,  
  
Suddenly ceased to be,  
  
So I am warning you this danger,  
  
That I have foreseen,  
  
And though I know many of you  
  
Think you're smart and clever,  
  
But I know I've got the brains,  
  
So listen to me, and here,  
  
I will tell you what is to be,  
  
In the short years to come.  
  
The war is raging on,  
  
All you too young to care,  
  
But I am old and know,  
  
Many of you will perish in disdain,  
  
But listen to me closely,  
  
Understand what I say,  
  
There is something wrong,  
  
In this big old castle fair,  
  
For though houses apart unite,  
  
Together they fall apart,  
  
But though one pillar can stand alone,  
  
Together they can hold a house.  
  
I have to part you,  
  
Sort you each into own,  
  
But know I am not happy,  
  
For this will be our downfall,  
  
Now approach and put me on,  
  
Place me snugly about your ears,  
  
I will look into your mind,  
  
And find where you ought to be,  
  
Shall it be fair Ravenclaw,  
  
Where the smart and clever dwell?  
  
Or will it be brave Gryffindor,  
  
Where all are noble and bold?  
  
Perhaps in Hufflepuff you will meet your friends,  
  
And there you will stay,  
  
Or even sly Slytherin,  
  
Where you will discover yourself by day,  
  
So come, I say,  
  
And put me on,  
  
Don't fear this warm wool hat,  
  
I have talked,  
  
I have said,  
  
Let the sorting now begin."  
  
Potter had been before him. He'd pranced forward all smiley and mischievous and put the sorting hat on and smiled widely. Less than a split second later, the hat open it's brim wide and yelled "Gryffindor". He'd walked down the aisle to screams and applause, having many friends sitting at the Gryffindor table already. He was popular, James Potter. Always had been popular, no one had ever hated him. He'd gotten one of the biggest burials Snape had ever seen. Flowers of every kind, mostly red and white roses - Lily loved red roses, and apparently, James, to be "spontaneously romantic (and witty)" he would dish up a mount of red and white roses and give them all to Lily at once. Every napkin, cup, plate, jug - everything had a little lily in the corner. James had loved violet lilies.  
  
Suddenly the vase exploded, heated by Snape's anger, vibrating by his throbbing hatred. Snape jumped up, shaken out of his stupor, cursing under his breath. He hadn't made something explode out of hatred for a while now. Trust Potter to re-active his already bad anger management. Professor McGonagall's dry comment caught up with him, and echoed menacingly in his mind. "Severus, you are not the world's most laid-back man. You are not the world's best person at keeping peace in the spur of the moment. I honestly think - with all my love of transfiguration and Dumbledore's love of Sherbet Lemons - that you should take WAMC (Wizard Anger Management and Control)." Snape sneered, staring at the small fragments of what had been his mother's vase. He was cold and numb, inside and out right now, and any love or affection for his mother was gone for the moment. Snape was feeling something he didn't usually feel. Or didn't usually let himself feel.  
  
He was lonely. Dejected. Even sad.  
  
As soon as he analysed his thoughts and feelings, and put two and two together, Snape sneered at himself and scoffed at his sudden softness. Severus Snape didn't do soft. That just wasn't his style. Cold. Bored. Disgusted. Not amused. Revolted. Idle, even. But not sad or soft. He smiled suddenly, a scary, uncanny smile that would ward off anyone.  
  
He has always been the odd one out, hasn't he?  
  
He muttered, "reparo." And the precious vase reassembled itself. He swiftly turned away and waved the lights off. He wanted an early night.  
  
~*~  
  
Just as he was sinking into his bed, Snape heard a tapping at his door. He shot the door a death glare before getting up, throwing on his dressing gown and plunging a hand into the pocket, fingering his wand. Oh, the curses that came to mind...  
  
"Snape? You're still awake. Good. Dumbledore needs you, in his office," Professor Sinstra said, waving a careless hand towards the dungeon steps. Snape scowled.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"I don't know. Minerva's there already, and Flitwick. Hagrid might be there - I don't know. But I have a feeling someone else is there, too." Snape glared at Sinstra. "Snape. Move, now. I don't know much, but I know it's something important." And with that he turned around and left.  
  
Snape glowered at the steps for a little longer, then pulled his robes on, and walked swiftly and silently up to Dumbledore's office. "Sweet tooth," Snape said, wincing at how ridiculous he sounded. The stone statue jumped up into life and moved apart, making way for a winding staircase behind it. He stepped onto the staircase and tapped it to make it go faster; will takes the steps in twos. He strode into the office without knocking.  
  
"Severus. Glad you could make it," Dumbledore said gravely, taking Snape completely by surprise. He hadn't absorbed the information Sinstra had given him - he hadn't realized that this particular selection of people in one place had to mean something big.  
  
He grit his teeth. He would have to be chivalrous, "yes. Professor Sinstra caught me just on time. How may I be of assistance?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled despite being weighed down with pressure. Hagrid just looked disgusted.  
  
"Very good, very good, Snape," Flitwick said, falling off his chair with excitement, "couldn't've done it without you."  
  
McGonagall stood up abruptly, "Dumbledore. You have brought them here for a reason," she stated. Dumbledore looked at her, pressing his fingers lightly together.  
  
"True." He observed the empty grate. Snape looked it irately at it and lit it. Dumbledore smiled. "Yes. Hagrid, you know what you're to do. I have already talked to Madam Maxime, she has agreed." Hagrid's face broke into a smile. Snape raised his eyebrows.  
  
Silence.  
  
McGonagall sat back down, temporarily satisfied. The silence stretched, and Snape, in his tired state felt himself drifting slowly into sleep. He clenched his fists and stood up. "Dumbledore, is there anything worth knowing for me?"  
  
"In due time. Flitwick, can you please oversee everything in and about Hogwarts over the summer holidays?"  
  
"But of course, Albus," he squeaked. Dumbledore inclined his head in a slight bow. Silence again. Snape shook his head and looked away from Phineas Nigellus's empty portrait. Where was the fool? He normally did not go anywhere - not many liked him.  
  
"Where's Nigellus?" he asked suddenly, shattering the silence.  
  
"On an errand," Dumbledore replied simply. "Hagrid, Professor Flitwick. If you could go about your preparations please." Snape smirked. He had a way with words, Dumbledore. Hagrid and Flitwick obediently got up and left. The smirk slowly faded at he saw the look etched on Dumbledore's face, the distress in the eyes. But it passed a millisecond later.  
  
McGonagall stood up, "sit down, Minerva. You can stay." She sat down. "Severus. I need you to talk to Lucius Malfoy - get back into the old gang," Dumbledore said softly. Snape inhaled sharply. He didn't say anything. He rubbed his Mark. He'd just been looking at it.  
  
He couldn't do it.  
  
He wouldn't do it.  
  
He couldn't.  
  
Suddenly a black dog, which had been practically invisible in the corner, came forth, padding softly. Snape cursed himself for not realizing and sprang up, whipped out his wand -  
  
"Severus. Control yourself. We have already been through this," Dumbledore said calmly. Snape glared at the dog as it formed into a human.  
  
Would he do it? 


	4. Arguments and Revenge

Snape grit his teeth so hard it almost brought tears to his eyes. He stared at the man before him with complete loathing. The dark, sunken face suddenly grinned.  
  
"Pleased to see you too, Severus," Sirius Black said, staring at Snape with ebony eyes, which had an equal amount of absolute repugnance. He walked across, "oh, and what are you, Snape? Scared of Lucius Malfoy and your old pals? I'm sure they'll welcome you back. Warmly."  
  
"Sirius," Dumbledore said quietly. Black looked at Dumbledore and instantly shut up, "Severus. What do you say?"  
  
Snape ignored Dumbledore's question and didn't take his eyes off Black, "you filthy swine. Lucius - Malfoy, Bellatrix - they'll welcome me back with banners and laughter."  
  
"I didn't say they wouldn't. I was thinking of someone else, Snape," Black said before walking across the room and sinking into a soft squashy green chair by Dumbledore's desk.  
  
McGonagall pressed her lips together, forming a fine line. Dumbledore merely stood up, headed over to his other room, leaving the door open. Snape was momentarily thrown. Where was Dumbledore going?  
  
Dumbledore's tall figure stood still for a minute, then he turned around and walked back. For a moment the three others in the room sat perplexed, until they noticed a stone basin levitating behind him that placed itself on his desk upon arrival. Black stood transfixed by the runes and symbols engraved into it, having always been a fan of old manuscripts. Snape smirked slightly, pointed his wand at Black's back and muttered a Shock- Spell. It had no harmful effect whatsoever, but it would give him slight satisfaction.  
  
Black shot up straight and jumped about two feet in the air, before rounding on Snape and raising his wand. Snape waited to defect whatever Black sent towards him. Suddenly he started doing a little jig, dancing and kicking his heels. Dumbledore waited a second before removing the spell and casting an invisible wall between the two, hence making it impossible for one to catch the other in a spell.  
  
"Now," the pair stopped glaring at each other to look at Dumbledore, "Sirius, you had something to tell me. Have you found a place for Headquarters?"  
  
"Headquarters? Dumbledore, what, pray do you tell, is going on?"  
  
"Order of the Phoenix, Severus," Black said with satisfaction.  
  
"We are trying to find suitable Headquarters undetectable by both the Ministry and Voldemort," Dumbledore linked his fingers together and touched the tip of his nose with his forefingers.  
  
"Why not use my manor? The Snape manor?"  
  
"The infamous Snape manor. We are trying to be imperceptible, Severus," Black said from his chair.  
  
Snape glowered at him and Black grinned and turned towards the Headmaster, "yes, Dumbledore. I have found a place suitable."  
  
"Where?" Dumbledore said, gazing at Black intently.  
  
"My family house," he said with great distaste.  
  
"Now look who's talking," Snape muttered.  
  
"There are a few differences - big ones. So shut up, Snivellus, and try not to let your long nose interrupt."  
  
"Sirius," Dumbledore said quietly and calmly as McGonagall's lips disappeared completely.  
  
"My father, as you know isn't a big fan of people knocking on our door for a cuppa -"  
  
"None of us Blacks are, save you," Phineas Nigellus's voice sounded as he slipped into his portrait, "house's filthy, my dear great-great-grandson."  
  
"Thank you, my honourable great-great-grandfather," Black said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He turned to Dumbledore, "that can be dealt with. But my father put every security measure he possibly could on the house. It's unplottable and has only got one secret passageway leading into the house from the cellar. But even for that, you have to be told where it is by the Black in charge. Used to be my father - now that would be me." Snape snorted and glared at Black.  
  
Dumbledore stood back up, pacing the office, talking randomly and to himself, "Unplottable - stretched wizard security measures - could have a Secret Keeper, that would be helpful - no, Mundungus mustn't know till all measures have been taken - yes, that would be - no - yes - maybe me would be best - yes, yes - maybe - nothing for it." He stopped pacing and stared as if mesmerized by the red and golden flames. He held his arm out and Fawkes flew onto it, and he turned away from one red and gold to another. "Fawkes, you must alert them all. A single warning for each individual." He then sat back at his desk without further comment. Silence regained.  
  
"I take it the former Black House is now Order of the Phoenix Headquarters?" Black asked. Dumbledore inclined his head slightly, "then I need to prepare a few things. Can I visit Harry on my way out?"  
  
"No," Dumbledore said sharply. Black did a double take.  
  
"Dumbledore?"  
  
"No," he said less agitatedly, "no. Not yet - Harry - Harry - you will see Harry soon." Black knitted his eyebrows together.  
  
"Don't worry, Sirius, you'll live to see him at least one more time," Snape smirked.  
  
"Severus! Really! You two are acting like childish immature students not fully grown adults. Now forget the past and focus on what we have in front of us - what we have to deal with. Sirius has already offered what he was here for. What's your answer, Snape? Will you join the old gang as a spy for our side?" McGonagall said harshly.  
  
Snape paled. He didn't want to do. He couldn't. But admit in front of Black? He'd rather die a thousand deaths at Voldemort's hands.  
  
"Yes," he concurred, his voice decidedly less composed than usual, "of course," he said more easily and coolly, staring at Black with vengeance. Of course echoed in his mind.  
  
There was no way out now.  
  
"Sirius. Severus." The turned towards Dumbledore, "watch," and from his Pensive he pulled out a string of should-be silvery-white material that was strangely a greyish-white now. And held it high above the Pensive as he drew a square in the air with his wand, letting the cord of gauzy neither liquid-nor-gas material fall into it. Suddenly, the box was turned into very much like a Muggle television, except they were living what was in the screen before them.  
  
Both Sirius Black and Severus Snape, sworn enemies, could not be tough before the sight the greeted them.  
  
~*~  
  
Ruins. Muggle cars with Medicals could be heard, though far away, everywhere was frenzy and chaos. People running in all directions, the sound of the hurt, the agony, the pain and most of all - fear. The smell the burnt rubber hung heavy in the air and smoke choked both children and adults. Two people dead, one narrowly escarping merely with a scar, his elders' murderer not found. An enormous man walked towards one house slowly, despite his big strides. He comforted a man there, picked up the baby boy placed next to the man, and left, roaring away on a flying motorbike.  
  
Pain. Death. Yet survival.  
  
~*~  
  
The man that had sobbed so in the memory took two steps back, then weakening and falling back into a chair. The man that had been standing close by didn't move, just kept staring at the scene on which the man he loathed most was killed, along with the lady he thought was the kindest in the world. And he suddenly found himself swearing internally that he would be civil to Potter - at least a little less tough.  
  
His mother was, after all, Lily Evans.  
  
A Mudblood. A bit stupid for marrying Potter. But still the only person in Hogwarts in his day that had shown him kindness.  
  
So true, he was doing this to save the world - mainly wizard kind. But he was also doing this for revenge. Revenge for Lily Evans. 


	5. Die Dulci Fruere

Snape walked quickly and silently down the dark corridors, sensing someone hiding – a student – but not in the mood to do anything about it. He walked further down and made sure he was alone before scowling fiercely. Dumbledore wanted to get him back with the old gang, did he? Oh, and McGonagall not only thought he need WAMC, but also thought him _childish_. But Black? No. Black gets shake of the head and a pat on the back for producing the Black House for Headquarters. 

_Damn Black. Damn Evans. Damn Potter. Damn the Dark bloody Lo_—

Snape slipped, having stepped on the hem of his robes. He cursed under his breath and waved his wand ahead of him, casting a spell that should fill the whole corridor with an ought-to-be glowing yellow light. But the light that erupted from the end of his wand was a peculiar red-grey light. Snape scowled. He knew he was angry and annoyed. He did not need light to tell him that. But it was light nonetheless. 

Satisfied with the fact that he could now walk straight without tripping, Snape returned to his thoughts. 

_Damn the Dark Lord._

Snape all but marched into his room, flung the door shut and jumped when he saw piece of parchment floating in the air in front of him, accompanied by a single red and gold feather. Snape glared at it and walked past it, ignoring it as it followed him noiselessly. Bloody Dumbledore. He was just in his office. Why had he sent him Phoenix/Fawkes post? 

Nothing for it. He'd have to revert to his Smashing Scheme.

He flung a trapdoor open, pulled out a vase and an expensive looking gold and crystal frame and placed them in the middle of the large room. He pointed his wand at the vase first and let out a Shattering Spell, as powerful as a small Muggle bomb had it not been controlled. He then made the frame explode and looked at all the fragments. 

OK. So maybe McGonagall did have a point with the WAMC.

He repaired both with a careless flick of his wand. He turned to find the message hovering patiently. 

"Fine!" he muttered and wrapped his fingers around the feather. Warmth tingled in his hand as Fawkes' feather recognized him. Snape reached out quickly with his other hand and grabbed the parchment before it fell. 

            Severus–

                                    Stay calm. I am sorry.

And Severus, Romani quidem artem amatoriam invenevunt. Take their lead, and always vide et carpe diem. 

Die dulci fruere. 

            _Albus_.

Snape snorted. So random! Why did he care about the Romans? And Dumbledore and his Latin. He was absolutely brilliant at Latin, as he was everything else, but insisted in never sticking with one language. It was rather irritating. And his bloody phrases! Always has one at hand. Today's happened to be "See and seize the day". And WHY the "have a good day"?? IT WAS NIGHT! He chucked the parchment into the fire and crumpled the feather in his fist. He breathed heavily. 

He really, really should consider WAMC. 


End file.
